Welcome to Gaia! ::

It felt weird stepping through the tunnel. Not that he hadn’t traveled through it before, heck, he could have chosen it’s twin. But this time was different. He wasn’t here just to visit like he used to. No. He was here for a much longer stay. A much, much longer stay. He came here to live.
Brushing aside a stray lock of hair, the boy gazed at the small square that had opened before him at the end of the tunnel. It wasn’t a very bright morning, with the heavy autumn fog lurking about, chilling everything in the early hour. He turned up his coat collar and peered at what he could make out in the haze. Straight ahead stood the lone flagpole in it’s little park, Town hall to it’s left, the opera house and bank to opposite at the right, and above, sitting on the two tunnels was the local train station. Yes it was different now. Everything was so much more real then before. He took a deep breath and tightened his grip on his last bag. One more arching stare at his new domain, he steadily made his way down the street.
He could just barely make out the smells of the corner bakery starting it’s daily wares. Warm vanilla seemed to draw him closer to the curb. But he had to resist the treat and press onward to the other side of the street. As he made his way to the lone blue town house on the far end of the street, he could see from the corner of his eye a large grey figure across the town hub, hidden behind the mist. He smiled faintly, knowing full and well what it was, and then turned his attention to climbing the steps of the porch.
Stepping to the door, he turned to take one more look across the street. Spanning from his left most view and circling his way to the right until his eyes fell upon the freshly painted mail box.

85 Main Street.
Mr. Nicholas Baker.

The morning started a bit late. The residents of Main Street seemed to prefer starting their day with a little more sun than the fog would allow. But fog or sun, it didn’t seem to keep people of the perfect street from their new subject of gossip.
“Did you hear Mary? There’s a new resident to Main Street!” a refined, Victorian dressed lady asked. She was Mrs. Banks, the well to do wife of Mr. Banks, a partner of the local bank. She smiled sweetly as she added some sugar to her morning tea.
“Oh really? Is that what all the fuss has been about lately?” Mary, a equally refined lady, responded. “My goodness, my Wendy couldn’t stop talking about how they were messing around with that old house down the street.”
“Isn’t that so? I’m so glad they decided to sell that old place, it always looked so gloomy and empty before. I mean the paint was so old it was turning greyer than a hatter’s hair!” They both shared a short laugh at Winnifred’s reference to a near by shop keeper. “But blue…” she added in a slightly disgusted manner.
“Blue?” Mary asked, her tea cup hovering between the table and her lips. “I think blue is a perfectly fine color.” she said, anticipating her partner’s comment.
“Oh silly, it’s not that!” Winnifred defended. “It’s just a sad color! And you know what they say about what people color their houses. I don’t think we can have a sad neighbor! Not on Main Street!”
“Good morning Mrs. Banks! Mrs. Darling!” came a call from behind. The two turned at their called names to find a young lady in a lavender dress and pale blonde hair.
“Miss. Gibbons! Dear! What a surprise!” Winnifred greeted as she stood up from the table. “Please please, join us Isabelle dear!” she said, offering one of the spare chairs.
“Gladly.” Isabelle said as she took the offering. “Now what is all this talk about?” she asked sweetly as Winnifred called one of the waiters for another cup of tea.
“Well don’t you know- oh that’s right!” Mary said, “You’ve been in New Orleans Square for the past week.”
“That’s right! Oh Mary dear! We must inform her immediately!” Winnifred announced waving a worried hand over the table. “My dear, there’s a new neighbor moving in that old house today!”
To say Isabelle’s face was shocked would be an understatement. “A-a new neighbor? From one of the adjoining lands?” she asked nervously, her deep violet eyes wandering from Mary to Winnifred’s and back.
“Oh no!” Winnifred responded without care to Isabelle’s reaction. “Completely new! They say he comes from the Orange Country!”
“You mean down south?” Mary interjected. “Well that certainly is rare!”
The two ladies continued their gossip, as Isabelle listened in. This didn’t sit well with her. Nothing “new” ever did. As Isabelle saw it, Main Street was perfect, a reflection of herself. She was gifted with beauty and talent, and made her way through the social ranks (mostly in part of her Father’s business with imports), and she even had the perfect “beau” to dream about. Everything for her was set, in a grand master plan for a happily ever after. That’s exactly how she saw Main Street. But a new resident? So late in the year? She couldn’t take any chances with this. She was determined to have things go as she had planned them. Although, maybe she was being to drastic thinking this. Yes that’s it. Maybe some “research” was in order. “Well, would you look at that.” she said dismissively, catching the attention of her hostesses. “I really must be going. It was good seeing the both of you.” she said sweetly as she curtsied and made her way out of the dinning area of the Plaza Inn.
“What life she has.” Winnifred commented as she watched Isabelle leave, “She’s always on her way somewhere.”

Nick finished unloading the last of the kitchen ware into the cabinets. He paused a second and stepped back to view his work. It was a bit sloppy, a tad unorganized, but still, it would have to do until he got used to the space. He grabbed the box and brought it into the parlor and placed it with several others. He turned to the next batch of boxes labeled “Bed” in shorthand. He nodded lightly and began walking to them.
Before he could lift the first box, a light tapping hit his front door. “Already?” he commented to himself. He didn’t expect any visitors for a while, least till he managed to step outside for the first time. He went to answer it, opening the door slowly.
“Hello Mr. Baker.” greeted a sweetly-smiling young lady. “My name is Isabelle Gibbons. I heard so much about you that I had to come for a visit, do you mind if I come in? I do hope it is not a bad time, you just moving in and all.” Nick felt weary of the girl’s constant smiling. She had a very beautiful face, and she held the utmost respect for him as a proper Victorian lady should, but the smile she had seemed to him to be a little, well, …fake.
“Um…” Nick stuttered as he peered into the Parlor. The sofa was free of debris, at least enough to offer a seat. “Sure…, um, my name’s Nick.” he said, letting her in. “Sorry for the mess… Miss-” he paused.
“Gibbons” Isabelle chimed in with a sense of pride as she stepped over to the sofa. “My family lives in the residential block, my father is running for mayor you know.” Seating herself she folded her hands neatly in her lap. Nick was amazed as he watched her from the parlor doorway. A perfectly polished doll, not a fault in sight. She glanced over to him and tilted her head up a bit. “Well?”
Nick stood dumbfounded. “Um… well?” he repeated.
“Aren’t you going to offer me something? A snack? A drink?” She said, a touch of command echoing in her fair voice.
“Oh!” Nick fumbled, trying to approach into the room while being tripped up by one of the boxes. “I’m sorry but… well, I don’t have much to offer…” he shamefully explained as he motioned toward the kitchen door.
“Quite alright.” Isabelle said, raising from her seat. “I see you are much too busy for company. So if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be out of your way.” She gracefully made her way back to the foyer and waited by the door for him to catch up. “Good day Mr. Baker.” she said with that tone of pride again as he held the door open for her.
Something in how she talked to him made Nick uneasy. He always heard and experienced a much more… pleasant greeting when visiting. Was that how things are when you’re no longer a “guest”? He closed the door and stood for a while, staring first at the wooden floors, then to a mirror leaning by the staircase behind him. He picked it up and looked himself over. “This…” he said, paying attention to his wrinkled shirt, “will take some getting used to.” He hung the mirror on a lone nail next to the door. Giving his reflection one last good look, he rushed to finish his unpacking.

“A job?” the manager asked, his baritone voice issuing out from underneath his think mustache. In his hands was a sheet of paper, a resume. He looked at the boy before him. His deep blond hair neatly combed to the side, his dark green bowtie popping out from a pressed white shirt toped with a simple but clean green striped vest, while his hands clenched firmly to a new straw skimmer. “Why would you need a job?” he asked.
Nick wasn’t sure as to how to answer, and tilted his head to the side in confusion. “Why sir?” he asked back, “well, you see, I’m, well, new here and well…”
“New?” the man interrupted, following up with a deep laugh. “So you’re the new kid!” he said, patting Nick heavily on the shoulder. “Sorry for the confusion kid!” he continued with a laugh, “I thought you were pulling a joke! Say,” he paused and looked Nick over again, “You fit in pretty well here, kid.”
He examined the manager’s own clothes. Black pants, white pressed shirt with deep blue arm bands and bowtie and a white apron around his waist. For a restaurant owner, his clothes were spotless. Nick then lowered his head and examined his clothes. They were clean, and new. But he thought that his being new to town would cause him to stick out no matter what he wore. “Do I sir?” Nick asked quietly as he peered back up at the man.
The manager’s eyes widened and after a second he burst out laughing again. “What a kid!” he claimed, “Call me Carlos kid! Come on, I’ll introduce you to the chefs and the waiters, you can serve can’t you?” he asked as he wrapped his arm around Nick’s shoulders and lead him inside.
“Serve? You mean…?”
Carlos laughed again. “Why not?” he asked as he lead the boy into the back door. “Welcome to the Plaza Inn kid! Here, this is April, she’ll tell you everything you’ll need to know…”
As Carlos handed Nick off to the ecstatic chef, Nick thought back to Carlos’s earlier impression.
Did he really fit in that well? Well, after the encounter with Miss Gibbons, he thought that’s what he had to do to live on Main Street. But another thought seemed to press itself on the matter: Did he want to fit in? be part of the perfect world around him? Or, like so many times when he visited before, did he want to stand out?
“Are you listening?” April asked impatiently, standing before the server’s station.
“Oh!” Nick jumped, “I’m sorry, I was just…”
April shook her head. ““Kid” is right, you’re greener than your vest! Come on, lets go over it… AGAIN…”

“Can you believe it Victor?! What nerve! And he didn’t even think to ask me if I wanted a drink!” Isabelle ranted as she paced from one end of the apartment’s room to the other. She mindlessly tossed her light blonde curls of hair aside out of habit, and paused to lean on a bureau. Tapping her fingers lightly on the furniture’s polished surface, she peered across the room to a large man in a wicker chair. “Well?!” she called at him, “aren’t you going to say anything about this?!”
“And what iz there to say?” Victor responded as he peered over the top of his newspaper. His lazy brown eyes and dark slicked hair reflecting the lazy streets outside the window behind him. “He waz still unpacking waz he not? He waz juzt not prepared to host anyone.” he asked, turning a page.
Isabelle inhaled sharply. “That’s not the point!” she commanded. “He refused to be a proper host, no matter his situation! And that, to a person of my status, is an outrage for all of Main Street!” She pounded her dainty fist one the bureau, shocking Victor a bit.
“Moi petite! Pleaze!” He worryingly called back, folding his paper aside.
“Please what? You are my beau are you not? You should have some sort of support for me here!” She turned sharply and sat herself on the chaise-lounge. Even in her anger she managed to maintain her poster with her nose lifted slightly upward. “What would daddy have say about this?” she said, more to herself than to Victor.
Victor sighed softly as he walked over to Isabelle and sat next to her. “Moi petite,” he said softly as he wrapped his arm around her waist. “Do not worry about it, I am sure he will correct hiz wrong doing az soon az he iz settled.”
Isabelle turned her face slowly toward his, her frustrated brow easing up. “You know Victor?”
He leaned closer to listen.
“You really should avoid words with the letter “S” in them.” she stated bluntly, smiling slightly.

Nick climbed the steps of his porch once more. He spent a majority of the day being trained for his new job. Luckily, the restaurant had a simple menu each night, nothing fancy, so being an effective waiter wouldn’t be too hard. Well, except for April’s comment that he needed to “speak up more.” But that shouldn’t be a problem.
“Excuse me…”
He turned around to meet the sudden voice. It was a young lady in a blue plaid frock and bonnet. She held out a small piece of paper with one hand while holding a small rustic suitcase in the other. “Do you know where this is?” she asked.
Nick took the paper and read it’s address. “The Emporium?” he said, “um… well that’s right down the street in this…” he paused, making sure to point with two fingers like he was told to, “-direction. It’s on the corner, can’t miss it.” he handed the paper back.
“Thanks!” she said cheerfully. “Say, you’re new here aren’t you?”
Nick paused again. “You… noticed?” he asked, blushing a bit as he noticed her chocolate eyes searching him up and down.
“You stuck your thumb out too far.” she giggled, demonstrating the proper way to “point”. “See? Line the thumb up with the other two…”
“Oh…” Nick blushed harder, attempting to mimic the gesture better. “Um… my name’s Ni- er, Baker.” he said holding out his hand. He thought that giving his first name may be a bit too forward.
“Emma! Emma Kettle!” the girl announced happily shaking his hard. “I’m from Frontierland, you know? Off that way?” she purposefully pointed off behind her. After sharing a short laugh, she took off her bonnet and shook out her brown curls. “So… “Ni”,”
“Nick.” he quietly corrected, blushing again.
“Nick. Would you be so kind as to help a fellow neighbor around town?” she asked, leaning forward slightly with her chin out and eyes connecting right with his.
Something about her rich eyes caught him off guard. But wait… did she say, neighbor? But she was from Frontierland, even her dress said that. “You mean…?” he said, pointing downward toward the street. “Neighbor?”
“You’re a bit slow on this aren’t you?” Emma said, chuckling a bit. “Maybe I’ll be the one showing YOU around!” She placed her hands defiantly on her hips. “Yes, neighbor. I’m moving into my apartment today.”
“Oh! Um… did you need any help? You know, unpacking?” Nick offered. It was a natural trait of his to try and help out when he could.
Emma waved a finger in front of his nose. “Naughty naughty! Trying to get into a single girl’s apartment under such a shallow premise! You scoundrel you!”
“Wha-what?! No! Oh no! I don’t want to go into your- I mean I didn’t mean I’d, no, - I…!!!” he stumbled being caught off guard once again, dropping his apron at her feet as he tried to recover.
Emma only laughed. “You’re sweet!” she said, watching him as he kneeled before her to pick his apron up. “My things are already moved in, thanks.”
“Oh.” Nick said as he looked up. “Well, if you do need any help… well, I’m always here.” he said, smiling as he held his hand out toward his door.
Emma inhaled as her face blushed. She quickly drew her bonnet back over her head and grabbed her suitcase again. “Thanks.” she said quietly, “I’ll guess I’ll be seeing you soon. Bye!” She waved as she rushed across the street and toward her new address.
Nick waved back, slightly confused. Little did he know that Emma’s sudden shyness was his own fault. Kneeling there before her, with his innocent eyes and gentle smile, she couldn’t resist his simple unknown charm. But having no clue of this, he simply grabbed his apron, stood and watched as the girl disappeared from sight. He then turned and headed back into his house.

Halfway down the street Emma stopped. She blushed slightly again, recalling his figure before her and turned slightly to catch view of his house down the street.
“That’s it.” she said contently as a new idea formed in her head, “He’s going to be my project!” she happily announced. She rushed onwards and didn’t slow down until she found the door to her new apartment. After entering and exploring her new home, she quickly grabbed a small booklet from her suitcase and re-wrote it’s old entry from “Finding My Prince” to:
“My Project for the Perfect Prince! Subject: Nick Baker”

Nick stepped steadily up the slope of his rooftop, making sure that the attic window remained open. He made his way to the peak of the house’s roof and turned to look Northward. A charmed smile spread on his simple face as the glistening sight of the Grande Castle filled his view over the buildings. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, opening them again as he looked at the castle once more.

And it was only his first day living in Disneyland.